


A Bridge Called Illyean

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Girl From Uncle, Hogan's Heroes, The Man from UNCLE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Old friends, old adversaries, with a yawning chasm of pain and memories and mistrust separating them.   And now, perhaps a bridge spanning the gap - a bridge called Illyean.





	A Bridge Called Illyean

**Author's Note:**

> Backstories - 'Ashtore' and 'Mr. Ecks and Mr. Wye'

She was beautiful, soft auburn hair with just a hint of curl, stone blue eyes. He would have known her anywhere, he thought, perhaps even without the pictures he received at least once a year. Of course, the pictures had never depicted her in a snug, solid black 'let's go steal the crown jewels' outfit, or with the smudge of gunpowder on her cheek, or a gun in her hand, but still . . .

 

That first picture, he'd sat and looked at it, probably for at least an hour, looked and remembered, smiling at the remembering. He had turned it over again and again, to read the words printed on the back, 'Caeide Illyean, 6 weeks old'. A short note was enclosed, typed, addressed to "Dear New Godfather", signed "Proud Parents". 

Another picture came on her first birthday, and from then on, every birthday, every major accomplishment, some just because. More notes, letters, and not just from the 'Proud Parents' either; there had been letters from her too, starting with ones in crayon, addressed to 'Uncle Illya', even then the spelling being correct. Never anything anyone could guess from, always speaking of 'Mom', 'Dad', and the various uncles and aunts and cousins; never anything anyone would remark on, but each letter being something he treasured, different postmarks, from all over the world. He wrote back, but that was to a post box, and that changed frequently as well. There was a box for those letters; well, now three boxes. 

He'd watched her grow, watched her mature, and his love for her had grown right alongside. Sixteen years worth of pictures he had stashed in that special album in his apartment, pictures he'd never shown to anyone. Caeide Illyean, daughter of two friends, their first born, the one he shared his name with, the one he considered his goddaughter. 

He'd have known her anywhere, but what she was doing here, untying him, untying his partner, in the middle of what remained of a home-grown terrorist unit in Bristol, that he did NOT know. He'd rubbed his raw wrists, helped her get the stumbling Napoleon to the doorway, and into the hands of the others waiting, guns drawn, alert for any trouble. But there was no more trouble, only that heap of bodies left behind, and the explosion they heard put paid to those. They'd both jerked around in their seats to see the billows of smoke and flame, and turned to look at each other, two men who had retired from the field at their fortieth birthday, but somehow still ending up in the middle of gun battles and crazy impersonations and everything else their lives had become.

Their identifications had been handed back to them, the girl smiling cheerfully at them from the front seat.

"Don't you just LOVE a good explosion??! I can't do that at home, not even little ones; scares the sheep, and the horses are none too fond either. But Uncle Andrew and Casino taught me the HOW'S of it; they're both quite good at it, you know, though only Uncle Andrew enjoys it quite as much as I do. As I have heard YOU do," nodding at Illya.

Illya could see the puzzlement on Napoleon's face; he smiled to himself, knowing the dapper man was trying to place that hauntingly familiar grin. Illya knew quite well where it had come from; the girl's father had that same cheeky, engaging smile.

"Well, then, had you anything else to be doing in the area, or will you be coming back with us to get your bruises and such tended, perhaps share a meal with the Family?" came in a rich lilting voice. Now that surprised Illya; where she'd picked up such a voice he didn't know; the tenor, well that reminded him some of her mother, but certainly not the accent. 

"I think we'd best be getting back to our own . . ." Napoleon had started in that suave voice of his when Illya interrupted.

"We'll go with you, if you don't mind, if you think it will not cause problems." 

The bewildered frown on his partner's face amused him, but he didn't get an argument; they'd worked together too long for one of them to question the other now without good cause.

"Aye, well, just sit back then, and relax. Don't worry, Uncle. I'll let them know you're coming; a good bit overdue, but finally on your way." 

And Illya saw the bewilderment grow on his partner's face, and tried to keep the grin off his own face. He knew Napoleon was hearing 'UNCLE', not what she'd really said.

From the car to a small plane, then they were circling and looping around in what Illya was sure were evasive manoeuvres; he saw Napoleon sneaking quick looks at the gauges, the horizon, trying to get a feel for their location. The gauges were all spinning merrily with no rhyme or reason, so he'd get no help there. The only landmark of any note, other than the cliffs, was the tall stone archway, perched on the cliff overlooking the ocean, and then they saw the outcropping of buildings below, and Napoleon shot him one more worried look. 

In a very low tone, pitched to reach him and not the others, "are you sure about this, Illya?" and he couldn't resist the grin any more. 

"Quite sure, Napoleon. Just sit back and relax. Everything's under control." Or at least he sincerely hoped it was.

He heard the grumble, "that's what everyone keeps telling me!" 

Napoleon wasn't happy about this, flying off with these people he didn't know; while their identification had been returned to them, their communicators hadn't been, so Headquarters had no idea where they were. He knew they'd be hearing about this later, when, well, IF they got back; Headquarters usually had PLENTY to say when he and Illya got mixed up in action like what they'd just gone through. He still wasn't comfortable with any of this. 

Illya had asked the same question of the girl, during the hustle of everyone getting settled into the plane, "are you quite sure about this?" and she gave him a quick reassuring kiss on the cheek.

"Quite sure; they've all agreed it was time, and it seemed the right occasion," and though he wasn't sure who the 'all' consisted of, or what the 'occasion' was, decided to just wait and see. He didn't think Napoleon had seen that exchange; he was sure he'd have gotten a lot more questions if he'd seen that kiss!

They were met at the door of the big sprawling house by a smiling, perhaps late middle-aged redhaired woman and a tall, thin, older man, greying hair that had once been dark, scars on his face, but a welcoming smile there as well.

"Well, pet, you've brought your visitors, 'ave you?" stretching out a gnarled hand. "I'm Peter, and you'd be Illya, that making you Napoleon, I'd wager," getting a cautious nod from both.

"I'm Caeide, and it's welcome you are," the woman spoke, and Illya looked at her appraisingly, now knowing her for his goddaughter's other namesake.

{"This really should be interesting!"} He remembered where he'd seen red hair like hers, a face, faces matching hers, all too well. He was sure Napoleon did as well. 

"Come along in, then, and let's take a look to your hurts. Seems you ran into a bit of trouble with that lot of McAirey's; well, a troublesome, unreliable bunch they've always been, to be sure," and the woman motioned them in and up the stairs, and to the left, the girl staying behind in the big room furnished with lots of seating, some round tables, including one set up at the right rear as if a card game was due to commence any time. 

"Uncle Peter, where are they?"

"Waiting for you in their own quarters, lass, and most anxious to see you. Run along; we'll take care of those two," and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before dashing up the stairs and turning to the right, through that closed pocket door, down the hall to the suite at the end.

A quick knock, then she was enfolded within her parents' eager arms.

"It went well? You're alright? And them?"

"Yes, I'm fine, not a scratch. They've both taken some bruises, their wrists took some damage from the bindings, but I think they'll be fine with a little tending from Aunt Caeide. Uncle Illya is trying to keep from grinning; he knew me right off, you know. Mr. Solo, Napoleon, he's not sure whether to be worried or annoyed, so he's settled on being inscrutable; they both recognized Aunt Caeide, though, or at least to know she looked overly familiar, and that's made them both nervous," she giggled.

She stood back, looked her mother up and down, "and how are you doing? My baby bister giving you any trouble?" them not knowing whether the surprise addition to the family would be a boy or a girl. 

April laughed, running her hand over the swell of her abdomen, "no more than you gave me."

Mark folded his arms around her shoulders from the rear, settling his chin into the curve of her neck, "you know what old Maudie used to say, nothing hot sweet tea and salt crisps won't see her through," with a fond chuckle, remembering the old woman who had been so dear to them all.

"Yes, we'll remember that the next time YOU'RE carrying the baby, my dear," and he gave her quick kiss on the cheek.

"I leave that to you, my April Showers, you do it so well, and the proof standing right in front of you!" and Illyean laughed as he ducked the fast back-of-the-hand April mockingly gave him.

"When do you think to spring it all on them?"

"Afternoon tea should do it; less mess to clean up if Napoleon passes out among the dishes than if we wait til supper."

Illyean giggled; this was going to be fun. Mark and April gave a glance to each other; fun, yes, but there were memories this was bringing back, many good, some not so good, and neither would be surprised if a few nightmares weren't in their future. And they still had to get agreement from their former cohorts, agreement to a truce. The OTHER side had already agreed, provided the two men from UNCLE did as well.

Andrew hurried in from the horse barn. "Are they here yet??" 

Peter laughed. {"I think he's almost as excited as the girl!"} His Andrew always had held boundless enthusiasm, and Peter still wondered at it, wondered but enjoyed it heartily.

"They're 'ere, upstairs with Caeide tending their ills. Illyean is with Mark and April."

"They're still gonna spring it on them at tea time, like they said?" he said eagerly.

"Yes, and we'll see if we 'ave to pick the big one up off the floor. It's been a long time, 'im thinking them dead, you know."

They both remembered that Gathering In so many years ago, when April had used her connection to Caeide, to the Clan, to call for a rescue for her partner, betrayed, captured, tortured; so many years since they'd orchestrated that little disappearing act of April's; helped the two arrange that last meeting with Illya before they said goodbye to the old life. 

Well, except there HAD been contact, especially after the baby had come, keeping the unofficial godfather apprised of her growth through pictures and letters. But now the time had come for the meeting, what with a Bonding presenting an ideal opportunity, and all were a bit nervous over it, considering the two, well, really three branches of the family who were concerned. Well, all except Napoleon Solo, who was also nervous, but not about what he had no inkling of yet.

Above, in the guest room, "well, that should do it. I'd offer aspirin but I'm doubtful either of you would take it from me. Maybe later, yes, when you're feeling more at home? In the meantime, the bath is through there; we've plenty of hot water. Fresh clothes, nothing fancy to be sure, we don't run to fancy around here, but they should fit well enough, we try to keep a variety on hand for visitors. If you leave those you're wearing outside the door, I'll see what can be done with them. Come down at 4, if you would; that should give you enough time to get yourselves together; the family gathers for tea then. It'll be in the kitchen, behind in the big room below, and I'm sure Peter has a couple of bottles of something stronger tucked away for the occasion." With a warm smile she left, closing the door behind her. 

"You going to tell what's going on, partner??" Napoleon ground out from behind clenched teeth, and Illya just chuckled. Partners they were, in all things, but some things needed to happen in their own good time and this was one of them. Besides, after having kept quiet for so long, he wasn't quite sure how to approach the subject anyway.

"Not now, you will get explanations soon enough. I am going to take a shower; I won't be long," and left Napoleon standing there, shaking his head. 

It was just a few minutes before 4, and the two made their way down the wooden staircase, to hear the voices coming from the hallway to the left. Napoleon stopped, listened, frowned, {"something about that voice, something . . ."} 

Illya was grinning now, something rare for his usually dour face. They got to the doorway, paused to look in at those gathered at and around the table.

"Well, and it took long enough for you to get here!" came from a thin blond man with sparkling blue eyes, and Napoleon's jaw dropped. 

"Well, you're here now, darlings, that's what matters," and the penny dropped. Dropped, as if from the top of a high tower and splashed into his bewildered mind.

"Mark! April!" and the hugs and handshakes, the laughs, then another round of hugs. Napoleon promised himself to give Illya a thorough beating later, but for now settled down to enjoy himself. He was introduced to Andrew, the other man of the house, and formally introduced to their rescuer, {"'Caeide Illyean', and I wonder just how long my trusted partner has known about HER?"}. From the looks of it, the girl was going to have company, a baby brother or sister, in the fairly near future.

It was a good couple of hours later when the two men headed upstairs to get organized for supper. Mark and April had headed up those broad stairs right along with them, and at the top of the stairs had paused, looked at each other, then with a sigh Mark said, "look, mates, a word? Illyean really wanted you here for this, and we've wanted the chance to see you again, but, well, there's something you've got to know." 

Napoleon and Illya shared a wary glance, "and that would be?" 

April took over, "you're friends; Illya, you're our daughter's 'godfather', for lack of a better word. And these, the people here, they are family to us. This is where we came when we had nowhere else to go, where they cared for us, helped us. They saved Mark's life, mine too when it comes right down to it. For this, they've declared this neutral ground, all old grudges laid aside. Raise a hand against anyone here, well, it would be bad, and we'd regret that, but we would stand with them. If you can't agree to that, a general truce, preferably for always considering what's to come, but at least for this time together, then we can have transport waiting within half an hour, take you to UNCLE headquarters. Illyean will be disappointed, but she will understand. This is family for her too." 

Napoleon sighed deeply, "that's not much of an explanation, April." 

"It's what I can give you, all I can give you to make your decision. Well, that and what you remember about us. And it doesn't have to be both of you; Illya, if you can agree and want to stay, you're welcome, though it will be trickiest with you, I have to admit, when it all comes down to it; we'll see Napoleon back safely now and you later. But you have to tell us, and be willing to stick by it, no later than" and Mark looked at his watch, "forty-five minutes from now, luv, and that's pushing it," and she nodded, "forty minutes then, darlings. We'll be back by to check." 

Napoleon and Illya, thoroughly confused now, stepped into their room and shut the door. "Any idea what that was all about?"

"I would say we are about to be faced with our past, in one way or another, and considering our hostess and how familiar she looked, I have my suspicions." Illya frowned, wondering how to put what he had to say, then just said it outright.

"I will be staying, Napoleon, whatever you decide. I received my first picture of her sixteen years ago and fell in love with her from that. "Caeide Illyean, age six weeks". That love has grown with each new picture, each note, each letter. The first ones were from Mark or April, though not signed as such of course, but before it seemed likely, they were from Illyean. In crayon, about six words to the page, as I remember," he chuckled. "Usually green crayon. They were brief and not overly informative, at least the earlier ones, but always spelled correctly. I remember one as being on the order of 'Dear Uncle Illya, I rode a horse today; her name is Angelita; she is my friend. I hope you have a friend too."

The usually taciturn Russian smiled at the memories, and Napoleon shook his head. "And you never told me, never even hinted. Not just about Illyean, but about Mark, April." There was more than a little disapproval in his voice.

"They had asked that I not, other than what they gave me leave to tell you, and that I did, if you remember. That I had seen . . ."

"Yes, yes, I remember. That you had seen Mark and April outside a little cemetary in Lyon and that they were together and said to tell us they were fine." His eyes opened wider, "and that was the truth??" 

"Oh, yes. We also had dinner together, though Mark suggest I not mention that, that it might adversely affect the atmospheric nature of the tale," with a wry grin. 

He grew somber, "you might ask them about their reasons; perhaps they will tell you. There is quite a story there, I would imagine, and no, they did not tell me all of it either, just enough to help me understand."

They had opened the door, precisely forty minutes after Mark and April had left to head back to their own room, to find the two standing waiting for them.

"Decide, mates?" 

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other and nodded, "we're staying. We'd like to talk later, sometime, when we can. I'd like to hear more about what happened, if you're willing." 

Mark nodded at them, with a bit of grimness about his eyes, "we can do that. For right now, come on downstairs. The rest of the lot's due to arrive in a bit; I'd suggest a drink before they do. I think you'll need it." Somehow that did nothing to lessen that touch of uneasiness that hovered at the base of Napoleon's spine. Illya just gave their old friends a certain look, but seemed to accept and wait. 

It was just as well that they did have that drink, conversing softly, being introduced to others as they came in, listening to the chatter from the rest of the room, the gentle noises from the kitchen. They heard a door open and voices and the door closing again, and then Illyean was in front of them.

"Napoleon, Uncle Illya, there's someone I want you to meet, my new Bond-mate, my 'husband', if you will, Allen.

A voice, a face, out of their past curled through the still air. "Luther Allen O'Donnell. I've heard a lot about the two of you." 

Illya was the first to regain his voice, his pale blue eyes looking into the ever so familiar stone-blue ones of the short slender man facing them, his blond hair gleaming in the light.

"Should I ask if any of it was good?" 

That got an easy if slightly rueful laugh from a memorable wide mouth, "I'll admit, it's a pretty mixed bag, what with Illyean's parents and mine, but that's probably true of most, don't you think? They'll be along in a few; D'Wye and Dad are getting the bags, Mum bringing her gifts. A'luwyn is due in in the morning, her and Scotty and the twins; they skipped the last day of the conference to be here. You'll be pleased with your gift, I think, luv," he chucked, giving Illyean a warm hug.

They made cautious conversation, learning that A'luwyn was Luther Allen's twin sister; Scotty, her bond-mate was one of Caeide's younger sons. Napoleon made a mental note to ask Mark how they managed to keep all this straight. 

The meeting with 'D'Wye and Dad', otherwise remembered as Mr. Wye and Mr. Ecks was cautious, reserved but polite. Well, considering their history, that was pretty much the best that could be expected. Mark and April had talked of neutral ground, a truce, not hearts and flowers and undying love.

'Mum', the alert and most wary M'Coury they remembered perhaps even better, and somehow the 'gifts' she was handling so easily, the two oversized wolf-hound pups tangling on leads, didn't make her appear any more easygoing. Illya murmurred, "Be careful, Napoleon. I expect they ALL bite."

Napoleon took the opportunity to say, with some trepidation, "I understand this is considered neutral ground," and caught the uncannily similar quirk of a brow and wry grin from the two blond men, the steady gaze from the older moustached Wye.

From M'Coury he got a chilly look as she said, "aye, neutral ground. I've a great fondness for Illyean, and have no quarrel with Mark and April; they are Family. You and your partner, well, while I'll not be forgetting, nor forgiving, I can set it aside, provided you threaten no harm to that which is mine to protect."

And he had to be satisfied with that. M'Coury knew she'd not been overly gracious, and she was well aware that there was still some carryover of the animosity she felt toward that other who'd harmed Luther mixed in with her reaction to these two, but considering her temperment, she thought she'd done as well as anyone could have expected.

When the next carloads arrived, bearing Meghada, Craig Garrison and Goniff, along with the well-remembered Randy and his now-Bond-Mate Louisa and their younger children, Illya had decided name-tags would have been an improvement. 

Goniff, and Luther (the former Mr. Ecks), Randy, Luther Allen - all cast from the same mold. They'd been told it would get even more interesting on the morrow, when Randy's two sons, his brother and that brother's sons arrived - seems they and Luther Allen were as alike as peas in a pod. Jamie's boys, on the other hand, carried on that dark hair, charming smile and blue-green eyes, eyes he'd gotten from his Da, Peter. There were a few others of the men and boys that obviously took after Peter, several that took after Andrew. The females were mostly varying ages of the redhaired pleasant faced woman who was their hostess. 

Napoleon risked a low whisper to Illya, "are you sure this isn't a Thrush plot? You remember, with all that cloning?" 

That got him a glare not only from his partner, but from an alarming number of people in the room, proving their hearing was well above average. He ducked an apologetic head, and resolved to keep any such thoughts to himself before he found himself tossed out on his ear.

Later that night, listening as the house quieted down, staring up at the ceiling above their large bed, tucked under the covers, "you know, I never saw that coming. What do you think, Napoleon?" 

"Well, it could certainly be worse, Illya. At least they're not facing each other on Hampstead Heath with knives in their hands."

"I don't think his mother likes me, us, any more now than she ever did," and that got a snort from the taller man. 

"She's a Dragon, Illya, at least that's what April called her. Remember that lecture in front of that painting at the museum? She's going to keep a watchful eye on her treasure, and beware to any who think to bring harm. You have to respect that, if not always agree with her."

There was quiet, then Napoleon asked the question in the back of his mind. "And Mark and April? Why didn't they come back to UNCLE? Oh, not field work, perhaps, but something behind the scenes."

Silence, then a deep sigh.

"No, Napoleon. What happened, it was too definitive. There was no coming back from that; Mark might have been able to, but for April, the sense of betrayal was simply too great. And it would seem they've made a new life for themselves, one they are quite content with. Let them tell you; I think you will understand. There is much I haven't heard myself." And they sighed and went to sleep, wondering just what new surprises would come in the morning.


End file.
